


Tales in the Long Night

by RunningRedRiot



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bloodshed, Drama, F/M, Love Triangles, Magic, Unrequited Love, mixes both book canon and show canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 11:09:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13523001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunningRedRiot/pseuds/RunningRedRiot
Summary: In the eye of winter comes the unexpected. A brief lull in the horrors of war gives many time to reflect on the future and what they hope to see when the Dawn finally returns.





	Tales in the Long Night

_There are worst ways to die, but not many come to mind at the moment._

Shaking like a tree branch, Jaime Lannister hastily pulls the cloak provided to him by Winterfell's quartermaster tighter to his throat. It had been a fine garment when he first received it. Warm fox fur lined the hood and the sleeves. The cloak matched perfectly with the boots and gloves he received as well. Jaime had been surprised at first, but that passed quickly. His brother had likely been involved in so much quality equipment going to a cripple like himself. _Even short a hand, I have to look my best. I'm a soldier in the glorious army of Her Grace the Dragon Queen._

The cackle of laughter that erupted from Jaime's throat was drowned out by the frigid winds of winter. Stiffing a cough, Jaime continued the miserable trek back to Winterfell with the rest of the foot. Glancing sideways, he observes the shambling mass of men trailing behind the supply wagons. Most are half frozen and barely awake. They had been marching nonstop for three days with the stinging taste of defeat on their lips. They had held back the Night King and his forces as long as they could at the ruins of the Wall. To no avail. The sheer number of undead proved more than they could handle. By the fourth day Jaime knew the battle was lost and sure enough a command to retreat soon spread among the men like wildfire. Form up and fall back to Winterfell. Run and hide in simpler terms. 

Although he had his own feelings on running from battle, Jaime had obeyed the order without complaint. In his opinion there was nothing more that could be done. With out the Wall the army had no defenses to speak of. All the castles had crumbled alongside the most impressive man made structure in Westeros. Jon Snow's strategy had been a sensible one, but perhaps a bit optimistic of their chances.

There was a thud to the left that drew his attention. The spearman beside him had collapsed into the snow. The leather gambeson of the soldier must have been heavy since the unconscious man began to sink. _Snow up to your cock. Only in the North._

Jaime stopped and bent to help the man. He was still breathing. He was simply too tired to walk anymore. There was a shuffling as the men walking behind turned slightly to go around the pair. Not a single one stopped to help. Jaime glanced up for a moment and saw an Unsullied, one of the queen's eunuch soldiers, walk by without even glancing at them. 

Despite lacking a hand, he managed to pull the soldier into a half carry that mostly consisted of dragging the man alongside him. Very quickly he could feel sweat beading on his forehead and back. His golden hand felt like it weighed as much as Casterly Rock itself. Really, the sensible thing would be to leave the poor fellow to his fate and save himself.

Grimly, Jaime Lannister continued the march in silence.

==========

"Are you going to keep snickering all the way back to the castle?"

Jaime can't help it. After marching for Gods know how long, he must be delirious. Why else would the ghost of Robert Baratheon be helping him?

"Forgive me, but I find laughter the greatest weapon in the face of impending doom."

The boy helping him carry his charge grunts before turning back to the road. They've started to lag behind and are being passed by a myriad of warriors. Stark Bannermen, Essosi Horselords, and cutthroat sellswords all brush past them with nervousness and exhaustion in equal measure.   

They walk in silence for a time. Jaime studies the boy, who had been the only one to offer aid, out of the corner of his eye. The resemblance to the late King Robert the Fat is remarkable and eventually drives him to ask, "Have we met before?"

Robert's ghost replies, "No, m'lord."

"Are you certain? You look awfully _familiar_...."

"I get that a lot." 

Before Jaime can retort a voice that might as well be a rusty blade coming out of its sheath interrupts, "Do you _ever_ shut up, Kingslayer?"

Suddenly Sandor Clegane is at his elbow. Jaime stiffens and fights the reflex to strike him with his golden hand. Sandor seems to notice because he gives a grin that is still as hideous as Jaime remembers despite having only the good side of his face uncovered.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Clegane."

The Hound snorts. "Always have been," he suddenly notices the boy and cocks his head. "Knew you were stupid, but not this stupid. That's a dead man you're holding in your arms boy."

"He's still breathing. And I told you my name is Gendry, not boy."

"Your name won't matter a shit if you're dead."

Jaime gives a half smile at the boy named Gendry and says, "Don't mind him. Clegane's charm isn't what is used to be. I appreciate the help. A Lannister always pays his debts."

Gendry opens his mouth to say something, but Sandor beats him to it. "Oh enough with that fucking saying. I've heard it half my life and the only thing you Lannisters pay back is shit."

Thinking of his family, Jaime can't help but agree.

After a long pause there is a string of muttered curses before Jaime feels some of the weight on his tired arm lessen. He gives Sandor a sly smile and quips, "I knew you had a heart somewhere in that wine filled chest of yours."

"Fuck yourself."

==========

After the winds die down some, Jaime and Sandor try to piece together what's happened. 

"I haven't heard shit since the command to retreat. It's all been rumors and more shit from the men."

Jaime had feared as much. He too had heard little about the state of the army after it had turned tail and run. Was his brother alright? He had been at the rear of the army, safely protected as befits the Queen's Hand. Though titles meant little to the Army of the Dead.

And where was Brienne? Last Jaime saw, she had been at Jon Snow's side, acting as his protector. Gossip had it that the Lady of Winterfell had ordered her sworn shield to protect the Warden of the North in spite of the estrangement of the two. Few Northmen had taken Jon Snow's abdication as badly as Sansa Stark. _Really, he's lucky his forces hadn't mutinied. Then we all would have perished._

Gendry suddenly spoke up. "Nobody knows anything. I had a man tell me both Lord Snow and the Queen were dead, only for another to swear they were alive and leading the retreat. Oh and something about a magic sword."

Sandor gave a grunt. "I heard that too. Probably that fool Beric waving that fucking flaming sword of his. Arsehole."

Just as Jaime was about to comment on the topic of potentially magic swords, thunder erupted overhead. The wind struck them like a hammer as a great roar washed over the trio. Jerking to a stop, the bastard, the warrior, and the knight looked up to a sight that still seemed impossible. The black dragon was visible even through the heavy snowfall. It's wings were as wide as a village. After a moment there was a second roar and another dragon joined the sky above them.

Jaime watched them. Awe and fear warred in his guts. He had seen what a dragon could do in battle, had watched as men, good men who looked to him for leadership had burned alive under a hail of dragonfire. Had stared into the eyes of a dragon and seen only death and desolation. _And yet they are our greatest hope for survival._

Jaime laughed. When he was done, he ignored the glances of his companions and began walking again. He had a feeling he knew which way was home. 

 

==========

It was close to night when they finally saw Winterfell's gates. A surge of relief flooded him and Jaime pushed himself as hard as he could. By the time they were inside he was ready to lay down and die. The courtyard was pure chaos, with weary soldiers keeling over left and right. Helpers were fast at work dragging the men to tents set up outside the Great Hall. Jaime handed off the man he had saved to a worker and slumped against a nearby wall. His head was pounding and he felt a hundred years old. He gave a small nod when Sandor and Gendry announced they were off to clean and find something to eat. _I could do with both, but for some reason I just can't seem to get up._

"Ser Jaime?"

Slowly, as if they were layered with hot wax, Jaime opened his eyes. The world was a fuzzy smear. There was a large figure looming over him. The Stranger perhaps? Finally come to take him for his crimes?

But why would the Stranger smell like a horse?

That jolted Jaime into awareness. The figure became clearer, more defined. Broad shoulders adorned in dark blue armor. Short, dirty blonde hair that could have housed a whole family of rats. A face only a mother could love.

"Beautiful," muttered Jaime Lannister.

Bewildered, Brienne of Tarth squatted down in front of him. She reached out and wiped some dirt from his face. "You've gone mad."

"Very likely. I haven't slept in days."

"I feared you had perished."

"If only I had. I ache worse than death and smell worse than I ache."

"Your japes aren't amusing."

"Have they ever been?"

That got a chuckle out of the wench, but before Jaime could point that out he felt himself being lifted into the air. "Easy there, for Gods' sake. I just fought a war."

Brienne grunted before slipping an arm around his shoulder. Jaime had no choice but to lean into her side for support. His legs felt like jelly. 

She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Your beard.....it tickles."

Jaime was half asleep and barely heard her. "Sorry."

"No, no I didn't mean.....it's nice."

 _Now I know I'm going mad_ , thought Jaime as he was whisked into the comforting heat of Winterfell.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I shouldn't be writing anything new while I already have a story unfinished, but I'm suffering writer's block. A lot of ideas are swirling in my head so hopefully putting some down will help me get my mojo back. Enjoy.


End file.
